Double-Sided Magic (Legacy Series Book 1)

by McKenzie Hunter

  Kalen took me to the large light gray multistory building that didn’t look like any precinct I’d seen before. The windows were large, wide. Dark drapes were drawn back and could be easily seen from the street. Beautifully manicured shrubbery surrounded the building on a lawn that looked freshly cut and well-cared for. Large oak trees swathed the walkway, and people spilled in and out of the building, some in uniforms, but most dressed in business casual. A few taking liberties with “casual” and wearing just t-shirts and jeans. I wouldn’t have thought they worked there at all if it weren’t for a badge dangling from around their necks or clipped at the top of their pants.

  As I approached the building, I could feel the strong magic intermingled into a complex tapestry. With each person that I passed I tried to figure out what they were. The only supernaturals distinguishable were shifters because of the ring around their pupil, which was a shade darker than their eyes.

  I was greeted as soon as I walked in by the receptionist, an older fae woman. The signs of aging were barely noticeable on her deep mocha skin and nearly white hair that she wore short. Her welcoming smile was done with such ease that I figured she had been there for years—it was as automatic as breathing.

  “Ms. Michaels?” Ugh, I didn’t like that. The notoriety was going to be a hard thing to deal with and it being a result of being charged with a crime against supernaturals was even worse. She wasn’t asking a question so I didn’t bother to respond. “Mr. Reynolds is expecting you.” She looked up at the clock; I was ten minutes late. It was a passive act of aggression. I just really hated being ordered to do something. Would it have hurt for him to ask if I could come down?

  She pressed a button and made a call. “She’s here.” Then she instructed me to go to the fifth floor.

  The elevator opened and I was met with just one office that took up a greater part of the floor. Out of my peripheral vision I could see two conference rooms and a restroom, and I leaned in to try to get a better look down the hall.

  “Ms. Mich—Levy, come in,” Gareth’s rich deep voice called from the office. I looked around the minimally furnished space. A large mahogany executive desk, a sofa on the far end of the room with a large table in front and a lamp table on the side furnished the room. He had his own coffee station and a small kitchenette in the back.

  “Nice apartment,” I said.

  He looked around, specifically at the large floor to ceiling windows that offered a great view of the city.

  “It came with the position. An overkill, I think. Would you like something to drink?”

  I shook my head but he didn’t seem to see it: once again my outfit was being given a review. “You were at work?” he asked, his brows coming together.

  Nice. “It’s a laid-back environment. Like this place.” I wanted to give his outfit a look of derision, similar to the one he’d given mine, but I couldn’t. He looked good. Damn. The short sleeve blue shirt made his oddly blue eyes really stand out, and the dark gray khakis complemented him and his build.

  He leaned back against his desk, one arm supporting the other as he stroked his chin, studying me. “Take down your hair.”

  “What?” I pretended to be surprised and disconcerted by the request. I must have succeeded.

  “I smell magic.” he said. “Each time you are near I smell it, but you claim to be human.”

  I shrugged. “I am, but I work around a lot of magical objects.” I pulled out an amulet, a piece of pseudomagic that the witches sold to humans. Just a minor spell. Whisper the right word, and it caused a mini explosion like a firecracker. It was crappy magic and even more crappy as a defense tool. Most people knew it was, but kept buying it. Humans seemed to like the idea of using magic to defend themselves or the idea that they had a little bit of it with them. I kept it for times like this.

  “You think I haven’t been around those things enough to be able to sense them and tell the difference?”

  I bit my tongue hard, because I wanted to tell him how little I cared. But once again, that was probably rude.

  “Are you always right?”

  Another look, slower, and his eyes narrowed as though he was looking through a scope—an assassin’s scope. The small kink in his lips was a twisted combination of a smirk and a grin. “The number of times I’ve been wrong can easily be counted on one hand.”

  “And he’s modest, too,” I added under my breath and rolled my eyes. He was a shifter, I knew he heard it. The things that fascinated people about them were the things that bothered me; acute hearing, heightened sense of smell, primal behavior, and skilled hunters. And I guess I could add arrogant and possibly narcissistic to the list, too.

  “Take down your hair,” he repeated.

  “Why?” I knew exactly why he wanted me to take down my hair. Shields, sigils that blocked others from sensing magic, looked like tattoos. The larger they were the stronger they were. Most people had them placed on their back, thigh, breast, or anywhere they could be easily hidden, and usually they were utilized by supernaturals who were hiding something—a crime. Like any fugitive they got a new identity and, like me, pretended to be just human. Shields were unique symbols and definitely a giveaway.

  “No.” At some point I needed to put my foot down with him. And this was it.

  He exhaled a long, slow breath before he spoke. He was someone who wasn’t accustomed to being denied and it showed. “Ms. Michaels—”

  “Levy. I was found innocent and I don’t appreciate you treating me like a criminal.”

  “No Miss Michaels, you were found not guilty and I petitioned for you to be released,” he said firmly.

  “So you think I’m guilty.” I backed away. This meeting was starting to go worse than I expected.

  “Not at all. But I don’t think there’s anything innocent about you. They wanted someone to pay for the murders. I want the right person to pay. My reputation is on the line here, and I need to know who or what I am working with.”

  “I told you. Human. I am around magical stuff all the time, I keep a protection gem with me at all times. I don’t know my whole lineage.” That was a partial truth. I knew enough about it to definitely know I was a Legacy. The moment he found out, I wasn’t walking out of here. “I don’t know, maybe someone in my family was witch, fae, or mage. For all I know I could have shifter in me.”

  “Ms. Mi—Levy, since the Cleanse that is highly unlikely, but let’s say I entertain that theory. I sense magic. I need to make sure you aren’t actively hiding anything. So prove it,” he demanded with a scowl.

  “No. I have nothing to prove. You can take my word or not, I don’t care.” I started out the door.

  “I’ll have you arrested,” he said before I could even get to the door. Fastened on me were determined and unwavering eyes.

  His cocky and indomitable disposition poked at my irritation and got the best of me. “Why? Because I dared to tell you ‘no’?” Maybe people should tell you it more often and then you won’t be so offended when it happens.”

  “I’ll have you arrested for murder. Last night another one was committed in the same manner as the ones you were arrested for, except a witch was involved. You were released several hours before they occurred, and I have it on good authority that you met with Humans First. So shall we try this again? Take. Down. Your. Hair.”

  I was fuming. Not just at his request, but because it all made me look suspicious. This was more than coincidence; was someone setting me up? I yanked the tie out of my hair and unraveled the bun. Sliding my fingers through it to get the kinks out, I leaned forward, allowing the strands to slowly cascade through them. If I had a shield on my head, there would have been a noticeable bald spot. Once I was done, I stood up. He was closer than before.

  “Apple?”

  “What?” My tone was harder and coarser than I’d like. I didn’t want to spend time fighting with Gareth, especially since it didn’t seem likely I would win. The short time I’d spent with him, it was obvious that he wa
s probably a good ally, but a horrible enemy. I didn’t want him as an enemy so I would play nice. “What apple?”

  “Your shampoo.” He could still smell shampoo from this morning? I tried to determine which trumped the others: creepy, impressive, or scary. It was an impressively scary creepy thing to be good at. Nailed it.

  “Yeah.” I gathered my hair into a ponytail. After a few more moments, he eventually took a step back.

  “The shifter that I saw yesterday watching me, was he was part of the Guild?”

  His brow drew together, his eyes a little cooler as he spoke, his voice slightly edgy. “No, part of the Felidae Clan. They don’t believe you are innocent. And since it was one of their own killed that night, I warn you to stay away from them. They are prepared to perform their own brand of justice.”

  “Okay.” Things couldn’t have gotten worse. Humans First and Felidae Clan thought I was guilty. The Magic Council didn’t think I was innocent. And I wasn’t sure about the mages and the faes. I was in a bad situation, especially with four more murders just an hour after my release. The headache from stress was just a minor ache earlier; now it was raging. How the hell was I going to get out of this mess?

  He went behind his desk and rolled the chair next to me. “Take off your shoes.”

  Fuck.

  I was screwed. My shield was on my foot, and stretched from midfoot to my heel. While most people tried to hide theirs within a tapestry of body art, I’d put mine on my foot. Or rather my mom had, along with having it tattooed flesh color. I inspected it often. It was unnoticeable to me, but Gareth, whose senses were heightened to creepy level, could possibly detect it.

  I kept cursing over and over. Prepared to make a scene and walk out. But would he have me arrested? Probably. Once again I’d be at the Haven, in their screwed-up system. I wouldn’t be better off because he could look there.

  I took a moment before I moved. Inhaled several easy breaths trying to calm my erratic heartbeat and breathing. A quick scan of the room and I developed an exit plan and I was nearly positive it wouldn’t work without me using magic. This was how I was going to be exposed: recently released from murders that required strong magic—my type of magic—in the Supernatural Guild, by one of the strongest shifters in the country. Or so I assumed, but I couldn’t imagine that position would have been given to anyone that they considered mediocre. Mediocre didn’t hold positions like this. And mediocre didn’t hold a position on the Magic Council.

  Consternation and sorrow settled heavily on me and shallow breaths were all I could manage as I plopped into the chair. I took off my shoes slowly, each moment a countdown to the end, and showed him my left foot. It was on my right heel. After careful inspection, he looked up. “Why is your heart beating fast?”

  “I don’t know!” I snapped. It was getting harder and harder to play nice with his freaking odd shifter senses. “When people treat me like a criminal, it’s hard for me to relax.”

  He was sturdily built, but in this position if I kicked him, he would at least lose his balance, giving me some space. I could make it out the door, but there was no way I could make the front door. We were on the fifth floor. I could leave out the window. I’m sure the moment I attempted to escape the building would be locked down. I was screwed.

  He remained silent while he finished looking and then waited until I presented the right foot. He kept looking at me. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, erratic beats, and I knew he could hear it. The tension creeping over me, the fear, that I’m sure he could sense, probably smell. Fear brought magic, the need to protect myself, and I could feel it pulsing in me, unfurling ready to be released in a hell-storm. I pressed my fingers into my hands, trying to calm it. Each time he looked up, I tried to read his expression, which hadn’t changed. He dropped my foot and stood very slowly.

  Say something. Do something. I needed feedback.

  “Thank you. You may go now.”

  Relief. I think. For years I wondered if I could pass if I were ever found. The relief, whatever, rolled over me in waves. Yeah, the Felidae Clan was ready to exact their brand of justice, I was pretty sure the faes and mages weren’t too happy with me, and someone was possibly setting me up for murder, but for a brief moment I felt relief.

  “I appreciate your cooperation.” Leaning against the desk, he dismissed me with a look.

  I scoffed as I headed for the door. “Yeah, my cooperation didn’t have anything to do with the threat of incarceration.”

  “You are a stubborn one. You require more incentive to behave. That’s on you, not me. I hope cooperation next time doesn’t require a threat beforehand.” His cool tone was patronizing enough to stop me in my tracks before I could get to the door. I stopped and spun on my heels to face him. Once again, he was relaxed against his desk, with a little devilish smirk—far too satisfied with himself. He might have been new to the role of head of the Supernatural Guild, but he seemed to have settled into his position of power with ease. Look at that, arrogant, narcissist, and I get to add smug to the list, too.

  I wasn’t moving. I handled the threat of incarceration with more diplomacy than I thought I was capable of. His smugness I tolerated, and his narcissism bothered me, but I could learn to deal with them. His little lecture on my behavior bothered me, however. He bugged me, and there was a part of me itching to let him know. A smile pulled at my lips, cloying and exaggerated. “Well, I hope this is the last time we actually need to deal with each other so hopefully it is irrelevant whether I am cooperative or not,” I said, before turning and leaving.

  His hearty, dark laugh drifted down that hall.

  I tried not to think of Gareth’s laugh of condescension as I walked, searching my phone for information about the recent murders. Twenty minutes later, I was behind the building’s alleyway where the murders were committed. The smell of garbage overwhelmed the tight space. The blood had been washed away, but some was ingrained in the pores of the concrete. Someone had performed magic, and it was strong. Very strong, different from anything I’d felt. Again, they’d killed a fae, a shifter, a mage, and now a witch. Why the witch? And how the hell did they get them all in the same location to do it? However they did it, they probably used the same thing on me. Four more murders. A witch was the only thing different. I used magic, but I didn’t know how to perform many spells. My parents were apprehensive about teaching anything other than the ones they thought could protect me. Magic could help me protect myself, and on the off chance I actually used it, it couldn’t always be linked to me. But a spell? If the person were skilled enough it could be traced back to the wielder. That’s how the Legacy was discovered and the curse that changed the world as we all knew it had been performed. The Cleanse would go down as one of the most tragic magical events in the world, forcing the supernaturals out of the closet.

  If someone were to be optimistic, it was responsible for bringing the humans and supernaturals together to destroy one common enemy—us. They destroyed Empyrean, the city where we lived, separate from the world with powerful magic, behind veils and wards. Rarely interacting with others outside of it. We were the magical elite, tales of ancient, strong, and pure magic. We were the magic that existed before it was changed, creating a pale comparison of what we were.

  Magic different than anything we possessed. Obsession with power, the desire to rule others was our downfall. Magic against magic we were superior, but then the world toppled under my ancestors’ wrongdoing—a spell to rid the world of all magic except our own we quickly realized. I hated that I used we. Because we didn’t do it, my parents didn’t do it, their well-intentioned friends didn’t do it. They fought to prevent the spell, most of them killed while doing so. My parents survived, barely escaping in time before the war began, but were still held guilty by association. Just as I was guilty by association. Possessing the ability to perform something like the Cleanse made people fear my kind. And I doubt if I promised on a stack of holy books, pinky swore, took a Girl Scout oath
or a declaration of intent that I would never ever, ever, ever do a spell that would kill all things that possessed magic while I hid behind a ward impervious to its devastation, anyone would believe me.

  The deep guttural rumble coming from the end of the alleyway pulled me from my thoughts. A compact, muscled jaguar padded slowly toward me. I took several steps back. It pulled back its lips, exposing fangs. Deadly fangs. I left my meeting with Gareth and came straight to the location of the murders. The only thing I had on me for defense was the witch protection charm. Knowing its limited capabilities, I would have to get close enough to the animal to get to its face or neck. A small burn near it would at the very least slow it down and maybe I could get away. I did a quick scan of the area to find another weapon to assist. Nothing.

  Slowly I stepped back, and it snarled as it moved faster toward me. The path of the confined space narrowed as I got closer to the Dumpsters. I gave the alley another sweeping look, trying to find something to use as a weapon. There were small shards of broken glass but nothing big enough to be of any use. Discarded boxes that had missed landing in the bin. Once again—useless. I grabbed the broken umbrella that was close to the opposite end of the alley. I just needed something. Grabbing it as I continued back, I realized running wasn’t an option and I was close to Trace Lane, a heavily populated cat shifter territory. It wasn’t something I’d considered when I came to investigate the area.

  Just a few feet away it reared back on its legs, ready to leap. I tried to anticipate its movement hoping it would try to bite. I could shove the umbrella in its mouth. If it tried to get me with its claws I would have to be fast enough to sidestep. It lunged at me. A body flashed past me and grabbed the animal by the throat, midleap, noticeably expelling a hard breath as it hit the ground with a thud.

  “Change.” Gareth growled his command to the jaguar. It didn’t do anything. “I said change, or this is going to be a very unfortunate situation for you. Do it now.”